


Tron One-Shots

by VirgoDragon



Category: Tron - All Media Types
Genre: but mostly mine, mine and maybe also not mine, nameless sentry, nothin but ocs Babey!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23008456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VirgoDragon/pseuds/VirgoDragon
Summary: A collection of any tron ficlets and one-shots that I write from time to time. These will focus pretty much solely on mine and others' OCs. I will give additional descriptions at the beginning of each chapter.In the first chapter, Haskell finds themself out past curfew in Argon, and makes themself busy avoiding getting caught.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	Tron One-Shots

_ Run. Run. Get out of here. Go! _

Haskell sprinted through the rainy streets of Argon, a sentry hot on their heels. Of all the times for them to forget about that  _ damned _ curfew…!

“Halt, program!” came from behind Haskell, entirely too close for their liking. They cursed and pushed their legs faster, praying they would keep ahead of their pursuer.

_ There! _ Up ahead. A side-alley on the right! Haskell pushed harder and jumped into it–

Only to be met with a dead-end.

“What? No!” They ran further in. Maybe there was another hidden alley, or, or–

“Nowhere to run, program,” said the sentry, staff armed and pointed forward.

“That’s what  _ you _ say, maybe,” they responded. Still, they raised their hands in surrender. If they  _ were  _ going to get taken for the games, might as well get taken conscious. They looked around again. Looked up. The alleyway had a multitude of pipes criss-crossing above their head. A blessing and an escape if Haskell could only get up there…

“On your knees. As punishment for violating curfew and resisting arrest, you will be entered into the Games.” He started walking forward. “Come quietly or face immediate deresolution.”

Haskell kept glancing between the approaching sentry and the nearest bars, too high for them to jump for. If they were going to do anything to save their skin, they’d have only one shot. Their palms were sweaty.

“This is your final warning. On your knees, now.”

“How about no?” Their voice cracked.

The sentry swung for their head. On blind instinct, Haskell stepped forward and yanked up their arm, blocking the staff from hitting them in the head and knocking them unconscious. They blinked, surprised they were still standing.

Taking their chance, Haskell grabbed at the staff, yanking it out of the sentry’s hands, who for his part appeared just as surprised as they were considering how easily the staff slipped through his grip. He recovered quickly enough, though, after that and grabbed his disk as Haskell flipped the staff in their grip, now pointing it at the sentry. They had to end this before getting killed. They swung.

The sentry ducked.

_ Shit! _

_ New plan. _

Haskell swung out their leg and caught the sentry’s. They pulled and brought him to the ground as they turned and took a running start for the dead end of the alleyway,  _ away _ from the other program. Adjusting their grip on the staff, they stuck it down and vaulted for one of the pipes above their head. They pushed on the top of the staff with one hand and gained just enough rach to hook one leg over a pipe with a loud  _ clunk _ . They could feel the give in the joints of the pipe and knew it wouldn’t hold their weight for long. Before they could pull themself up, though, a sharp tug on the staff nearly brought Haskell back down to the ground. They looked up (or down, more accurately in that case) and there was that damned sentry again.

“Don’t you guys ever give up!” They yelled.

Haskell gripped the staff tightly with both hands and shoved it into the sentry’s face, breaking his grip. They did this again. And again. And the fourth time, they hit  _ something _ on the staff which shocked the other program on contact, tasing him until he fell and stopped moving.

The groaning of the section of pipe under their leg gave Haskell just enough time to swing up and grab another section, closer to a building, before the piece under their leg gave out and fell onto the unconscious sentry below, letting Haskell’s lower body swing dangerously far back and making them nearly lose their hard-won grip on the rest of the rain-slicked pipe. Haskell pulled themself up onto their arms and double-checked to make sure  _ this _ section of pipe was more stable than the last one (it was) before bringing a leg up and settling into a straddle over the pipe.

Through all that, they’d somehow held onto the staff and now returned it into its baton form and clipped it to their thigh– right where the baton for their bike  _ would _ have been if their bike hadn’t malfunctioned and needed to be sent to the garage for repairs.

Haskell scooched closer to the adjacent building and scanned the pipes overhead as they slowly,  _ carefully _ stood up on the dripping pipe. They sighed as the rain splattered on their mask. This was going to be a long night.

“This is just like climbing the stacks back at the archive, Hask,” they said as they started making their way up. “Just like the stacks. Except infinitely more likely to get you derezzed.”

They spared a glance for the sentry below, still unconscious. Good. Hopefully he’d stay that way for a little while.

After what felt like cycles of climbing and slipping and grabbing and breaking pipes, Haskell finally rolled over onto the roof on their back and derezzed their mask to let the cool rain pelt their face. They knew they couldn’t stay for long– for all they knew, that sentry was already awake again and calling for backup for a renegade program.

Funny, it was the Renegade that’d brought them to Argon in the first place. The Renegade and their own ever-present hunger for information on anything and anyone of note on the Grid.

Argon had first come to Haskell’s attention when whispers reached Tron City of programs en masse turning each other over to the Occupation with accusations of anyone and everyone being some “Renegade” program. Searching the archives in the city brought up nothing, and there wasn’t even anything on this program in the ancillary archive, either. So this was a new program, or at least a program acting in a new way, and evidently one the Occupation wanted to keep under wraps. Haskell had made a note to visit Argon in the near future.

That note became a priority when the rumor mill started saying that a  _ general _ had challenged the Renegade to a  _ public duel _ – and the Renegade actually showed up! Of course, the details had been… expanded upon on their long journey from Argon. Some people told of an epic battle taking millicycles. Some said it only lasted an instant, with different victors in each telling. Some said there were programs held hostage, literally dangling at death’s door the entire time. The general died. The Renegade died. There were two Renegades. Quite a few people were saying the Renegade was actually Tron himself.

Haskell had the hardest time believing that one. Tron was dead. Everyone knew that.

They’d requested time off in order to investigate the Renegade in person, get to the truth of the matter. They’d even found someone willing to discuss the elusive program– one of the mechanics at the garage they’d taken their bike to. A girl named Mara who, if Haskell were to judge things, had a hero crush on the Renegade. In any case, Haskell had had someone to interview the following cycle.

And then they were caught out after curfew.

A recognizer drifted along a few blocks away, spotlight on and searching. Their time was up.

Haskell put up their mask again– they did  _ not _ want their face on any wanted posters– and headed for the other side of the roof. They started half-climbing, half-sliding down the corner of the building, and spotted what looked like a storm drain, just big enough to fit through. It’d be wet and miserable, but Haskell wouldn’t be found in there.

They hit the pavement and dashed for the tunnel, sliding out of sight right as the spotlight of the Recognizer passed overhead.


End file.
